


Coffee House

by enbyofdionysus



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyofdionysus/pseuds/enbyofdionysus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Nico were mortal, he would think they're contacts, but the guy doesn't seem threatening enough to be a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee House

**Author's Note:**

> I CORRECTED MY HORRIBLE MATH SKILLS;;;;

If Nico were mortal, he would think they're contacts, but the guy doesn't seem threatening enough to be a monster.

The coffee house, believe it or not, was an accident. He was shadow-traveling back from Toronto having left Noah with some more contacts from the Southwest. “They're Aztec demigods,” Nico had warned him as he handed over the paper. “Make sure you do your reading so you don't go in blindly.”

Nico had been spending the past year running back and forth between the US, Mexico, and Canada as well as different sides of the countries trying to find and gain the trust of dozens of demigods, magicians, sorcerers, and demi-monsters from hundreds of different belief systems in order to make an army strong enough to defend the world from the __Ragnarök__ _,_ the Apocalypse (so to speak) of Norse mythology. Noah had been the first demigod Nico had met outside the Greco-Roman circle. He'd made the mistake of separating from Reyna and Coach Hedge while bringing the Athena Parthenos back to Camp. It had been a foolish mistake, but he'd been too tired already to have noticed that they hadn't been properly clasping hands; he would have to go back for them after he got some rest. Conveniently, that rest ended up taking place in an alley behind the headquarters of a demi-Viking army and a 6'0” Hispanic Thor had mistaken him to be a son of Hel.

Long story short, Hispanic Thor turned out to be Noah Diaz, a child of Freyr, and with the promise of helping Nico get back to his friends without any cause of harm, Nico had in turn made the promise to help in the final battle of the __Ragnarök__ _._ In the course of that promise, their army was now some 150 strong with 107 making up the Vikings, 7 making up the Celts, 8 making up the Chinese, 14 making up the Indian, 12 making up the African, and 2 making up the Egyptian (kind of), so far. Many of the demigods weren't organized like the Vikings or Romans, but were scattered in groups. He'd found Ginnie, Nessa, and Robin in the dry part of a sewer in downtown Boston and only because he knew that a crow turning into a black ferret wasn't exactly normal. Likewise, he'd found Pryderi, Mark, Angie, and Carla in a cave around Cape Cod. The others were the same, though the African demigods were in closer knit groups of larger numbers. The Egyptians Nico had had a harder time with, but he could understand; Carter and Sadie Kane were busy with their own thing just like the Greeks and Romans were busy recuperating from theirs. There was a reason Nico hadn't broken the news to Reyna or Jason yet. The camps needed time; the defeat of Gaea had been only yesterday. Or so it felt like.

In any case, the coffee house had been an accident. And yet perhaps a part of his brain had known. The name of the place is called Rainbow Grounds, after all. But Nico hadn't really taken much notice. All he knows is that he needs something in his stomach that's warm or he's going to either puke or pass out.

One of the baristas eyes him warily, but takes his order nonetheless and Nico puts the change from his order into the tip jar. It's when he goes to the other side of the counter and notices the numerous flags hanging from the ceiling that Nico realizes the place is an LGBTQ coffee house. Sweat immediately beads at his forehead and his eyes take in the rainbow flags like they're some kind of swastikas baring down in his face, but suddenly his coffee, black, is being pushed in front of him and Nico thrusts the thoughts from his mind, going instead to find a seat on one of the couches in the second room.

He's never been in a place that actually _feels_ like a coffee house before. Of course, New York City has Starbucks and Tim Horton’s, but those feel like fast food places with a different smell. He's never gone into a place and felt like he's sitting in front of a fireplace that isn't there. And that's what this place feels like with its chalkboard menu and wooden walls, soft lighting and cozy chairs. Nico sits next to a bookshelf, clutching his coffee and feeling its warmth seep into his chilled and exhausted bones.

There's something going on in the room that he's chosen to sit in: a circle of chairs have been made some six feet away from him and they're occupied by an array of people with different styles and faces, different skin tones and drinks. Nico tries to listen in on the conversation they're having and that's when he catches the voice of the man with the violet eyes.

He's sitting half-way into the center of the circle and although he speaks with his hands held close to his body, his voice carries itself nicely across the group which listens intently. “--tography protest called What Dyke Look Like,” the man's saying. He adjusts himself in his seat, crosses his feet at the ankles while keeping his thighs spread. “Her name is Kristy Boyce if you guys are interested. I'm really excited to see the portraits, myself. I personally think it'll boost LGBT support in Russia, but you never know.”

“I think it might hurt the community over there though,” says a woman with short, pink hair. “I mean, if they're gay bashed for just being _out_ , then isn't showing their faces to the public in a photo-shoot a really bad idea? What if they get murdered?”

“I'm pretty sure they would've considered that before they agreed to be in the shoot,” Violet Eyes says. “The article in _Curve_ stated that because of the statistics of gay bashings, more men declined to do the shoot than did women. They're not forcing anyone to do anything. This is all their choice and I think it's a great, non-violent way to beat back against the law.”

The woman scoffs and shakes her head. “Whatever. It's your country.”

A muscle in the man's jaw ticks, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he sweeps his eyes across the group and gives an easy smile as they settle on a dark-skinned woman. “Tanya! How was your weekend?”

His voice sounds extremely familiar to Nico, but he can't place the face. It's round and framed by blond curls and though the guy's tall, he's definitely on the chubbier side. He wears a dark green, denim jacket over a grey shirt with jeans that hang a little low on his wider hips. Appearance wise, he's average, a regular New Yorker.

But the _eyes_.

Tanya talks about her weekend and the guy smiles genuinely at what she's saying. Nico notices the dimples. When she stops, another person begins talking and the guy again listens intently before he seems to feel Nico's gaze on him and shifts his eyes casually across the room. When they fall on Nico's, Nico's scared for a moment that Violet Eyes' face will split into the cruel smile of Dr. Thorn. But the guy's look isn't predatory. Instead, he looks curious and gives a little gesture of his head.

_Join us?_

Nico flushes hotly and sinks further into the couch in answer, averting his eyes. When Nico looks up again, Violet Eyes is focused again on someone speaking in the group. The boy speaking does so quietly and Nico can't hear all of what he says, but it must be something distressing because the girl sitting next to him reaches over and squeezes his hand at the same time that Violet Eyes squeezes his knee. The boy looks grateful.

Nico is envious. He thinks of Violet Eyes' gesture, but doesn't dare move.

 _You'll always be an outcast_ , the voices of the river purr in his ear as he tries to swim ashore. _A son of Hades, an obnoxious little boy, and now a disgusting little queer. Daddy always liked Bianca best, just like your mother, just like Percy, and now you know why. Just give up, Nico. It's so much easier. Percy will never love you. No man would ever love someone like_ you _. Just give u_ \--

“Hey.”

Nico looks up. The people in the group are putting their chairs back, nudging one another occasionally and chatting amongst themselves as they pick up their belongings. Violet Eyes is standing in front of him, face a mix of concern and something else Nico can't quite place.

“You're Nico Di Angelo, right?” VE asks.

Nico feels the panic begin to settle into his blood. How does this guy know him? Nico gives a slow nod, brain trying to come up with a quick excuse to leave. I'm not gay. The coffee here is good. I just needed to sit down. The other places were closed. In New York City. For some reason.

VE extends a hand and shows his dimples again. Nico reluctantly clasps it in greeting. The panic is immediately replaced with something like calm, which is... strange. “I'm Pollux,” VE says. “We've never actually met.”

Pollux. Nico's memories zip back to a pair of chubby twins on a battlefield, to a funeral pier. Pollux. _Castor and Pollux_.

“Mr. D's--”

“Son, yeah,” VE, Pollux, says. His dimples haven't disappeared. Nico stares at them. “You going anywhere? Group started before I could grab a green tea frapp and I don't want to head down to the metro yet. Mind if I join you?”

Pollux's handshake had felt like an aspirin. The voices in his head are silent. Nico shrugs. Pollux smiles and sets his bag down on the couch. There's pride buttons on it. Nico's envy returns, but it's silenced when Pollux touches his shoulder casually.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he says, goes down the two steps and across the room to the register. Nico follows him with his eyes, feels the touch on his shoulder like a warm burn. Pollux has to be in his early twenties and yet Nico finds his dumb, little heart hoping. It's normal, right? To hope that someone notices you even if it's pointless? Even if you aren't interested?

Pollux returns with a green drink and settles down next to him. _He's nothing special_ , Nico thinks. He doesn't have Percy's confidence or Jason's silent command of authority. But the dimples come back and Nico shifts a little awkwardly anyway. “So... Group?” he asks.

“It's a support group,” Pollux says, pouty lips clasping onto the end of his straw. “For queer individuals who are too old to be in the Youth Group, but don't feel comfortable enough joining the older crowd yet. They come in here on Fridays. Youth Group on Wednesdays. Us on Thursdays.” He gives Nico a friendly smile. “Of course, everyone is welcome to join.”

Nico doesn't meet his eyes, sips his coffee.

“How's life?” Pollux asks before the silence can turn awkward. “I haven't seen you at Camp since Gaea. Then again, I haven't been at Camp in a while either. No real point in me being there.”

“Busy,” Nico says. It's all he can say. “What about you?”

Pollux's eyes brighten and Nico's heart hammers a little. He's nothing special , he tells himself again, but it's as if Pollux's own joy is making Nico feel happy. He wonders if it's a Dionysus thing. “I got a part in an off-Broadway play at the Black Box Theatre,” he says. “Have you ever heard of _Ordinary Days_ ?” Nico shakes his head. “It's a play about two couples-- well, the one pair isn't really a couple. But it's about four people. There's Clare and Jason, a couple struggling to get along with each other after they've moved in together for the first time. And then there's Deb, a grad student who's lost her research which is found by a gay, cat-sitter named Warren. It's a pop opera.” He says it so excitedly that even though Nico has no idea what that means, he feels a bubble of excitement in his own stomach. “I'm playing Warren.”

“I didn't know you did theatre.”

Pollux looks a little sheepish. “I'm not exactly the best singer in the world, but it's my dream to be on Broadway.” He glances up at him, a little grin on the side of his mouth. “People think that because I'm fat--”

“You're not—”

“Shut up, I am. People think that because I'm fat, I can't keep up with the choreography of a show. But I'll tell you, I could be just as good of a Newsie as anyone else.”

Nico doesn't know what a Newsie is, so he pretends he does. Smiles. Nods.

Their conversation continues like that for twenty minutes while Pollux drinks his green drink. He offers Nico a sip, but what the son of Hades tastes is awful and Pollux laughs. It's a nice laugh. Like aspirin. Like his touch. A warm burn. Finally, when Pollux starts slurping, he asks if Nico is staying at the Camp. Nico is honest, says no.

“I'm just resting for now,” Nico says. “I have to meet someone in Boston.”

“This place closes in the next hour,” Pollux said, tossing his drink's container into a wastepaper basket beside him. “You can take my couch if you want.”

Nico stares at him.

Pollux offers a one-armed shrug. “Just a suggestion. I don't mind.”

“Where do you live?”

“East Village.”

Nico considers. He could shadow-travel again (but that would exhaust him even more and he just started to feel normal again) or he could take a real nap on something other than cement. He looks up at the violet eyes.

Considers.

Agrees.

Pollux smiles. Dimples. Casually squeezes his knee as he stands up. Aspirin. A warm burn. Nico drinks in the feeling like alcohol, follows Pollux like he's drunk. And for all he knows, he is.

 


End file.
